Well, after my MRI on Monday, I resigned myself to a waiting game while the radiologist perused the incomprehensible slices of my foot before distilling them into a written report for my esteemed podiatrist. Today, I ventured once more to my Podiatrist’s office to receive, hopefully, good news. Sadly I, like a horny teenager trapped in an nudist colony composed entirely of ponderously obese men, was destined for frustration and disappointment.
My right foot is a piece of garbage. No, really. Since my teens, every once in a while, through some mysterious transformation enacted, doubtlessly, by clamoring minions of the underworld, becomes an agony generator equaled only by the presence of my Ex. But even I admit that, after years of DDR stomping, years more of wearing Nike Frees to strengthen various muscles, evidence might indicate healing or time or even luck had rendered that particular foot “normal.
Jen, a more avid Facebook advocate than I, posted my malaise yesterday, so I figured it only fair I provide a more thorough explanation as to what actually happened Saturday and Sunday. What am I alluding to, you ask? This weekend, I spent Saturday and most of Sunday at Naperville’s illustrious Edward hospital, and this time, it wasn’t because of my heart!
I woke up around 4:00am on the 18th feeling as if an army of ferrets were fighting over my colon like it was composed of especially delicious Pixie Stix.
I haven’t spoken much about the Samsung NC10 I bought to accompany me on the train. Out of all the netbooks, I chose this one because it was one of the thinner, lighter models, I adore the keyboard, and with the Amazon exclusive, came with a bigger battery and slightly enlarged trackpad. Of course, Samsung immediately announced two or three new netbooks, one of which replaces the NC10 and has basically the same enhancements as mine, plus a redesign.
Read this. Read this Crap your pants.
